


Silverado

by QuizzicalQuinnia



Series: JB Week 2017 - The Family Jewels Ficlets [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 12:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12232944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuizzicalQuinnia/pseuds/QuizzicalQuinnia
Summary: A western ficlet for JB Week Day 1.





	Silverado

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Isola_Caramella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isola_Caramella/gifts).



Silverado

 

The coin flipped in the air, sun glinting off silver as it turned over and over then violently split in two as the bullet hit it dead-on. The halves thumped into the dirt in tiny clouds of dust.

His horse stepped back and blew the hot air of irritation through its nostrils. Jaime dug his spurs into the beast’s sides to halt it, never taking his eyes off the enemy in the middle of road, ready for a showdown. Beads of sweat burned Jaime’s eyes as they trickled from his forehead. It was hot as the seven hells in the noon sun.

The townspeople had gathered on either side. Old Doc Pycelle leaned against a hitching post in front of the sheriff’s, and that boy from the blacksmith’s gripped his enormous and absurd hammer as if he could do something about the situation.

The woman was only bringing a message, so she’d told the postmaster as she cantered into town, her sleek black stallion shining as much as the silver coin Jaime’d tossed from his pocket as he’d ridden out to face her.

It would have to be her that they sent. They would know how to use her against him even if she didn’t grasp that herself. He’d tossed the coin as they’d always done, to decide who spoke first or they’d never stop bickering. But she’d shot it with her perfect aim. It felt as if she’d shot him in the chest.

This time was different. There was no hope in her stunning eyes as she stared at him. He looked down at the white neck of his horse, a bland tan now from the dirt of the ride from the ranch. She had come for the Stark girl and would not leave without her, even though Sansa Stark was long gone. If any other Lannister had come to town, the black rider would disbelieve them instantly. Jaime had only a slim hope that she would believe him now.

Why should she, in truth? The Lannisters were ruthless and cunning. They lied even as they paid their debts. Some of the townspeople still thought that wretched Stark girl remained spirited away at the ranch though she’d disappeared weeks before.

What the Starks had done to deserve the loyal service of Brienne Tarth was something Jaime would never comprehend. She was good, above them all, Lannister and Starks and all the rest. And she was his enemy.

“We don’t have her, Wench,” he shouted across the space, hoping she would see the truth on his face.

Her extended arm didn’t waver, her hand steady as the pistol pointed toward him. “Cat said you do.”

He hated to do it, but she left him no choice. He would have to get under her skin as he knew he could. “Cat is dead.”

She blinked, once, twice. “She had word.”

“Her word was wrong.” Jaime meant it in more ways than one.

She took a long, heavy moment to reply. “You know where she is.”

He shook his head. “I don’t. We had her, you know that, but she’s gone. I don’t know where. No one does.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said too quickly.

“Yes, you do.” He nodded, half to himself. This, they had. This trust between them. He hoped it couldn’t be killed as everything else seemed to be.

“I have to find her, Jaime,” she yelled, angrily, deep in rage and fear of failure.

He spurred his horse to step a little bit closer, enough to see her face. “I know,” he said, too softly. “But she’s not anywhere around these parts.”

The corners of her mouth turned down in an ugly grimace, but her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She hated this as much as he. “Cat said Sansa would be at the ranch. I must go there myself, you know that Jaime.”

He felt dread bloom inside him. She believed him, he could see it there on her dirt-streaked face but she would ride up to the ridge and try to search for that damned Stark girl anyway. She had sworn she would, Jaime knew that too. Brienne Tarth never went back on a promise even if it meant her death.

And that’s what would surely happen. She would never get to the fence. His father’s men would take her down the moment she crossed the boundary. He could not allow her to get that far.

He raised his rifle, balanced it on his other arm with the barrel aimed at her shoulder. “Leave. Now. She isn’t there. I don’t want to shed needless blood for a lie some dead woman told you.”

Her pistol was steady. Her eyes were tumultuous. He mouthed one word at her, praying to all the gods and betting on the only truth that mattered, the one kept secret between them, that she would understand.

 _Fall_ , he told her.  _Fall_.

She fired. The silver bullet seared the skin of his shoulder, the scent of his coat’s burning leather sharp around him. He fired.

 

 


End file.
